


A New Light

by 3trees



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Romance, Dark Ritual, F/M, Morrigan's ritual, Morristair, dark pact, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3trees/pseuds/3trees
Summary: While performing the Dark Ritual, Alistair finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings for the Witch of the Wilds."Alistair was in awe; he was seeing an intimate side of Morrigan that he was sure he would never see again.  She looked completely different than she did during the day. In camp or battle or town, she was callous and acidic in her wit to match her cool nature; untouchable. However, here he was, running his hands up and down her lustrous body illuminated by the moonlight, kissing her in places he dared not even lay his eyes on during the day...In a foggy daze, Alistair silently noted that he had never witnessed anything quite so beautiful."





	

Morrigan slid the lock of the bedroom door into place. The click of the heavy brass made a bead of sweat drip down the back of Alistair’s neck. ‘Great, now if she hexes me, the others might not be able to make it to my rescue in time,’ Alistair thought resignedly. The mage turned and looked at Alistair, her catlike amber eyes piercing straight through his armor and chilling him to the bone. Alistair’s words caught in his throat as he tried to make light of the situation. “Am I to take your clothes off, or would you rather take care of that yourself?”

Morrigan scoffed in disgust. “You will not lay a hand on my garments, fool. I can dress and undress myself just fine.”

‘This is getting off to a great start,’ Alistair mentally sighed. Morrigan’s steely eyes detached their gaze from him as she walked toward the bed, pulling her shawl over her head and discarding it on the floor. Her breasts were covered only by a sheer bra, causing Alistair to blush. “Why so flustered, Alistair? Have you never seen a woman unclad before?” she mocked, knowing full well he never had.

“Do you have to be looking at me in such a way?” Alistair protested, ignoring her jab. “I feel less than comfortable having you molest me with your eyes as I undress.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes in exasperation, but walked toward the wardrobe on the other side of the room and faced away from her as she pulled her sleeve and armband off. Having won, Alistair faced the bed and began to remove his various layers of armor. When he got down to his bare skin, he felt a tingle of goosebumps run up and down his torso. Left standing in nothing but his undergarments, he glanced behind him and jumped at what he saw: naked except for her underwear with her hair freed, Morrigan watched him with analytical eyes. “How long have you been watching?!” he exclaimed, turning to face her.

“Come now, Alistair; surely you didn’t expect us to make love without looking at one another?” Morrigan asked, her eyes moving from his chest to his abdominal muscles to the prominent bulge in his undergarments. He covered himself with his hands in a humiliating attempt to maintain his privacy. He had to admit, she looked alluring; Morrigan never made an effort to hide the body the Maker had gifted her with, but seeing her so bare made it even more clear that she was a beautifully, horribly attractive creature. She was the succubus; a dangerously beautiful being with the power to destroy anyone in her path. Hands wanted to caress her smooth, pale skin; eyes wanted the attention of those cold irises; lips wanted to capture her and claim her. At the same time, she was untouchable. Power radiated off of her, the kind that wouldn’t be contained and would burn any who tried to. Her domination was unfeeling and uncompromising, she did not forgive and did not fuck around. The succubus was to be admired and feared.

Morrigan advanced on him slowly, her hips moving in a manner similar to a hypnotizing pendulum swinging back and forth or a cobra preparing itself for the killing strike. He backed up inadvertently, causing him to fall back onto the bed. He moved away from her until his back was against the headboard, even more intimidated than usual by her in her intimately exposed state. She crawled on the bed to join him, moving forward slowly and sultrily, their eyes locked. The mage leaned in as if to kiss him, and Alistair found himself with the impossible urge to lean forward and reciprocate. However, instead of letting their lips meet, she turned away and blew out the candle on the nightstand next to the bed.

It took Alistair a couple moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the moonlight filtering in through the window, but the rest of his senses wasted no time. He felt the last of his modesty being pulled off of his legs and discarded and heard Morrigan’s own being treated the same way. “Why blow out the candle? Can’t stand the sight of me?” Alistair challenged. Morrigan did not answer. He opened his mouth to question her further when he was suddenly accosted with her scent; damp moss, the forest after a torrential downpour…flowers from the Wilds. He lost his voice for a couple moments as he took in the unfamiliar fragrance. His frozen pause was taken advantage of; Alistair felt hot lips against his neck, a tongue flicking across the skin down his shoulder, teeth making their mark on his collarbone. ‘Why is she doing all this?’ he asked himself, but was suddenly struck with the answer as a private part of his lower body tingled with a feeling of longing. ‘Ah.’

Alistair’s eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting of the bedroom. Morrigan was straddling him, her head lowered to move her mouth along his chest, leaving marks behind that ached in a good way. She came up suddenly, her lips inches from his and her breathing heavy, matching his. “Your arms don’t have to lay at your sides like dead weight,” she hissed. Morrigan grabbed his wrists roughly and put them impatiently on the curve of her waist. “It will feel better for the both of us if you reciprocate my touches now, believe me.” Alistair felt her hips gyrate underneath his palms and moved them tentatively up underneath her arms. “For pity’s sake…” Morrigan growled, and put his hands on the weight of her breasts. “Do I have to tell you how to do everything?”

Alistair was beginning to grow annoyed. He moved his hands to grasp at her back and pulled her forward, pressing his mouth to her collarbone. He moved his lips gently but forcefully across her torso, overtop her shoulders, across her collarbone, around her breasts, letting his teeth graze her skin occasionally. Alistair felt her body shudder underneath his touch and felt a sense of satisfaction. He reveled in the goosebumps covering her skin hot like magma and white like chalk reflecting the moonlight. “Now, do it now,” she commanded in a soft breath, and he obliged. Suddenly he could feel her, all of her, and he knew that she felt all of him too. Alistair’s head swam, overcome with this new feeling of need spreading from his heart to the hot surface of his skin. He released a gasp as she began to move her hips, stimulating the feeling of need overwhelming him. Morrigan used her body to encourage him to move with her, and for once he gladly indulged her. 

They worked together in bed much as they did on the battlefield; they no longer shared barbs to humiliate the other, but instead worked together as companions to help one another. One glaringly obvious difference however, was that on the battlefield they took the roles of comrades-in-arms, while now they took the roles of lovers. 

Morrigan’s eyes shut tightly and an expression of erotic pleasure washed over her face. Alistair was in awe; he was seeing an intimate side of Morrigan that he was sure he would never see again. She looked completely different than she did during the day. In camp or battle or town, she was callous and acidic in her wit to match her cool nature; untouchable. However, here he was, running his hands up and down her lustrous body illuminated by the moonlight, kissing her in places he dared not even lay his eyes on during the day. The sounds of pleasure escaping her lips were so different from the sharp bites of her mocking; the latter made his heart hard and defensive while the former fell to his ears like music and made his body feel like it was melting. 

Alistair watched as her pace quickened and her fingernails found his shoulder blades. He felt the need building, becoming an overwhelming feeling inside that he wasn’t sure he could take for very much longer. Morrigan’s eyes flew open and her glowing golden eyes captured him, body and soul; he shattered. Alistair gasped and stars swam across his vision, disappearing just in time to see Morrigan experience a similar phenomenon. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she threw her head back, her black hair draping over her shoulders. A primal cry escaped from her lips, vulnerable and unguarded. She quivered, clutching him, needing him, for a few more moments before relaxing and letting her lungs fill and empty with air as she panted.

In a foggy daze, Alistair silently noted that he had never witnessed anything quite so beautiful.

Moments passed. The only sounds to be heard were the labored breathing of the two lovers bathed in the light of the moon. They did not embrace, they did not spend the night together, and they did not share confessions of love. Morrigan left soon after that, wordlessly redressing herself and leaving the bastard prince with a feeling of loneliness that he did not understand and an unexplainable desire to ask her to stay.


End file.
